What do you take care of?

Yesterday I watched a woman meticulously wash her car. She was probably in her late 20s or early 30s, and I spent at least a half and hour watching her carefully spray down the wheels with a special foam cleanser, and rub the sides with a sudsy cloth. She still wasn't done when I was on to my next agenda item.

It made me think about all the smelly things composting in our van, which wasn't much past a year old.

And I wondered if there was anything that I took such meticulous care of in my life. I do sweep out my tent before wrapping it back up, but I hardly wash the whole thing in and out on the patio, like one of my neighbors. And our car has to get pretty bad, or the in-laws fly into town, for me to bring it to the car wash.

I think sometimes the abundance of things in my life makes me overwhelmed enough not to care for any of them. But that's just an excuse at the end of the day. Because truly, where my time and attention and energy is focused, that is a reflection of how I value the abundance in my life.

What relationships do I value in my life? And do I take the time to really dig in and focus on them, regularly and without distractions?

How do I value my time? Do I approach taking care of my health or my spiritual life with the same time and devotion as the woman washing her car?

I am thinking about how I take care of things as I continue to struggle with my hair. I hate shaving my head. It takes time, I get super grumpy every time I do it, and I always end up bleeding. It's a reminder, painfully, that I have no hair. But that's the rub: because I do have some hair left. And it's stubborn, and coarse - and I know that in the struggle of my heart, God is saying - take care of this too. What is left is important. Nurture what you have.

What thing in your life have you taken good care of? What do you want to pay more attention to?

Second Chances

A couple of nights ago, I started making what I thought was an apology about something to my husband, he got defensive, and I ended up yelling things at him through the closed bathroom door - that is before I stopped myself, realizing that I would only regret anything I said, and what good could come of that?

After I took a while to calm down, I made another attempt. I told my husband that my intention really had been to apologize, and that it obviously didn't come across that way since he reacted so defensively. So we slowly started the conversation again. And I think that it became one of the most sincere and intense conversations we've had in a really long time.

For me, the story of Jesus is all about second chances (and third, and tenth...). It is God's promise to me that I am neither a "good" person nor a "bad" one, but that I will have moments of each, and I get another chance to be better. Earlier last year, I remember getting in a cycle where I would do something I regretted (like throw Ben into his room on a pile of legos, instead of walking him calmly into timeout) and then feel so crappy that every action I had would reinforce my feeling that I was a bad mom.

Something changed for me this past year. I asked for God's help, and I don't get as stuck in shame as before. I still do things and say things everyday that I regret. Then I often ask my kids and husband for a do-over, and I move on. But I never have to ask God for a second chance. I know that God's promise to me is that he will pick me back up and there is such freedom in that.

There was a boy who started in Ben's class in kindergarten who had just been adopted from Ethiopia. During that first month, he often wore a florescent green cross around his neck. I don't know what they told him about Jesus at the orphanage where he lived after he was given up by his aunts and uncles. But I hope it was the story about how, when everyone else seems to have abandoned us, that God is with us, and loves us no matter what. And that Jesus is the story of a new beginning that is a promise to us all.

Transition to Bliss

I just spent three great days camping with my two boys, and a group of mamas and their kids. It was so great to be in the woods. At one point I spent a half an hour watching the kids play in the creek, and test their confidence on a pretty tricky log that bridged over the fast-moving stream. At first, Ben slid across on his hands and knees. The next time he walked sideways, inching. By the third and fourth times, he was practically running across. I sat far enough away so that I wasn't close enough to give instructions, nor close enough to ask for help. I got to just take in the sunshine, trees, water running over rocks, and the gushing confidence that came out of each kid.

The absolute worst part about camping was 1) the getting out of the house in the first place and 2) leaving. I've realized something about myself - once I decide something, I'm pretty impatient to get there. The kids sense my stress level, and pretty soon they are bouncing off the walls, as I'm trying to pack food for the week and their clothes and all our gear. In kid-speak, we'd call that someone who has "trouble with transitions". Indeed.

It was the same thing with leaving. An hour before, I was in camping bliss but as soon as I had "an eye on leaving" as my friend said, it was all over. When Alex took 20 minutes longer than the others to walk back from the creek, I practically dragged him along I was getting so frustrated. And I packed the kids in and drove them to the bathroom on the way out, rather than waste another half hour meandering to and from the loo.

The transition to bliss can be a tricky one. So it is with life I think as well. I'm impatient to get to the next stage for our family - can't everyone see it? I want to drag everyone along with my vision of what is clearly the best path for everyone.  Though change is coming, it isn't coming nearly as fast as I would like. And I waver between wanting to force things (anything!) to happen and just trying to breathe in this transition time, and do the best I can.

If Only

I find, in times of stress or discomfort, that it's easy to slip into the "if only" mindset. If only we had more space, I would feel less penned in by all the toys and clutter. If only we lived closer to the boys' school I would feel less resentful about all the driving back and forth. If only Jeff traveled less. If only the boys were older. If only...

I know that the if onlys will never truly be the change I think may come. If we had more space, I'm sure we would fill it up with more stuff afterall! And then there was a big "if only" that came true - and life didn't change that much.

The other thing I think "if onlys" do is keep me from recognizing what I can change in the present moment. Of course I would love to walk the boys to school if we lived closer, but what about exploring carpools, or asking family to help out more, or even getting a babysitter for a few days a week? If onlys can get me stuck without looking at the bigger picture.

There is a quote from Deepak Chopra in this month's Oprah magazine: "The way we are educated in the West, everybody's looking toward the future. Which means they're never in the present. So when they arrive at the present it is not there for them, because they're not present for it."

I will still dare to dream big, but everytime I catch myself thinking "if only" I will stop for a moment. If only makes me think I need to wait to be happy - when I know relishing the present is the key to my happiness now.

Birthday Musings

Today I am 37. Marvelous, fabulous 37.

I think up until this year, I had a lot of unmet expectations. It's frustrating going through life like that. Filling my head with questions such as "Why didn't she even acknowledge the work I had done?" or "I can't believe he didn't even do that one simple thing!".

Change is coming for me, and has come. And I realized I've learned many things, but a couple nuggets are standing out for me this weekend.

1) Ask for what I want. It's pretty clear to me that one huge recipe for feeling disappointed is expecting the other person to know what I want. Don't all guys know that flowers on Valentine's Day are a must? And, if I really look at the truth of the matter, my expectations are a moving target. I may not have expected a wrapped gift last anniversary, but I want one this year. It's pretty hard to keep up with my own moving expectations, much less expect someone else to. So this year I've learned, and am continuing to learn, to ask for what I want.

I learned a hard truth about asking this year too. I asked my husband to do something important to me, and he didn't do it. And I realized that nothing irks me more than asking for something from someone, and not getting it. For a while, my desire lay like a brick on the floor between us, until I finally picked it up and put it away.

This is something I will continue to face - unmet desires and my unabashed irritation and even anger that erupts then.  Because the reality is that no one else can meet all of my needs, and if I am lucky, the people in my life can meet some of them. And when I know, in those moments of clarity, that I am not dependent on anyone else to make me happy, it feels pretty great. Which leads us to parties...

2) Create my own celebrations.  My boys have taught me this about celebrating for birthdays. For many months leading up to their big days they have spent time planning the theme, costumes, guest list, food, activities, and party favors for their birthdays (and their corresponding family party). The special birthday placemat is pulled out days before the actual date, and anticipation is everything.

So this year, much to my extended family's surprise, I planned a multi-day birthday celebration for myself. Friday night - earthquake premiere party with Jeff, my sister and her wife. Saturday - me time with yoga and the day off, with a great breakfast with my mom. Sunday - church, carnival parade, and bbq at my friend's house. Monday - massage and Giant's game with grandma & grandpa, sis and wife, husband and the kids. Nice huh?

And so, I felt extremely neutral when at 4:30 tonight Jeff asked me what I wanted to do for my family birthday party later this evening. I knew it was too late to shop and prepare dinner with the boys, so take out after they went to bed sounded great. The boys expected a cake, so Jeff whipped up a box mix while they watched a video. Had I not created my own celebration(s), tonight might have felt a bit lackluster but honestly it was just what it was. Some really special moments with the little guys punctuated by some of the usual bedtime pushbacks.

I bought a long-haired curly red wig for my birthday weekend extravaganza. I've had a great day today, and yesterday, and will tomorrow and the next. And I'm reminded of words from one of my favorite Dave Matthew's songs:

Celebrate we will. Cause life is short but sweet for certain.

Going Back

Last February, when I was having the good type of breakdown, the one that forces you to make some changes, I made a bold declaration. I was going to play soccer. I was tired of driving my kids around to their activities, without nurturing mine. Some old rugby teammates had played on a women's league team in the fall, and I thought, why not?

The first game I subbed myself out every five minutes, winded, and made some halfhearted attempts to win the ball. The real insult came days later, however, when the night after a bike ride my quads felt like they were ripping from the inside out. Apparently my lame attempts at jogging in the gym hadn't prepared me for actually chasing things. Fast-twitch muscles you say? I think not. Still, the second game I showed up hoping that the pain would lessen after I "warmed up". I took myself out of the game after five minutes, with searing pain flashing up and down my legs.

It was not the triumphant return to sports I had imagined.

Going back is easier said than done. I think the impulse is strong, when things get hard, to go back to where or what we were then. It'll be easier, I think. Or I'll feel happier.

When Ben was having his first murderous weeks in kindergarten, he wanted to go visit his old preschool. I agreed right away, thinking it would be therapeutic, and I scheduled a day for him to go back. I think he had a great time - digging in the mud, playing in the gross motor area, singing songs. But I think he also realized that all his peers that he loved and remembered had moved on, and when he went back to visit, he was the old guy in a sea of younger kids.

It took me six weeks to recover from my pulled quads, but I have managed to play the last few soccer games. It's been getting more fun as I've gotten into a new groove (I am now firmly a defender instead of a midfielder) and each week I've had to nurture some nagging bonk, like my bruised foot.

Though I wish I could, I can't go back to those pictures of that care-free girl with the short brown hair. The fact is, she wasn't as care-free as I imagine, and that's the point. Trying to go back will just divert me from the new journeys ahead. That isn't to say that we should never go back - sometimes we need to, just to see how much bigger (older! wiser!) we've become.

When have you gone back? When have you wanted to go back?

Joy in Numbers

I love this weekend in San Francisco. First I got to hang out with some new friends, and the next day some old friends. And to top it off, it was Bay to Breakers - the famous costumed footrace / parade that winds through the city each May. Despite the occasional "I wish I hadn't seen that guy naked" most people wear great costumes. I didn't even go to the race this year but as I drove through the city tonight I loved seeing all the day's stragglers in their fancy frocks, meandering their way back home.

There is something significant about sharing joy in a crowd. Sure, you could run across the city wearing a clown wig and a tutu any day - but do it with thousands of people and it becomes epic.

On Saturday night we had dinner with some new friends, and for grace before we ate their eight-year-old daughter starting singing Johnny Appleseed - and of course I joined right in. Her eyes grew huge and bright as I helped her sing the rest of the song. Here was someone she had never met before, who was singing a song that she thought may have belonged only to her or her cousins. There is power in shared experience.

That's how I feel when I enter church, or another intentional celebration like a wedding. For me faith is a deeply personal journey, but it is coming together each week with others that gives me additional insight, inspiration and joy to keep on my path.  I love singing, in particular - loud and off-key is my style. Here's one of my favorite faith songs currently - Consuming Fire - the lyrics get me every time "There must be more than this, O breath of God come breathe within".

There is a bible verse that talks about the power of getting together in Matthew 18 (19-21):  "For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.”

The power of getting together is also why I love going to baseball games. I absolutely can not wait to belt out the song during the 7th inning stretch. Can you imagine how good it would feel to stand up with thousands of others, and sing about something more profound - like how God's grace is enough?

How do you celebrate the things important to your family in a broader community? Where do you find joy in a small group or crowd?